Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating
by Kiora
Summary: Rule 4: There's no use in denial. --5/12 [on hiatus]
1. Rule 1: Never trust a good looking guy.

Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating 

  
  
[**Author's Notes:** Long time no see, eh? So here we go again... alternate universe, I own nothing, don't sue me. Trunks is around 21-ish and Pan is 16. (Which makes Bra around 15 and Goten's 20 if anyone cares. It's not as important.) I know they're really much farther apart, but those are just for my purposes. Comments are very very welcome, especially as the style (first-person) is a bit experimental. Thanks!]   
  
**Rule 1:** Never trust a good looking guy.   
  
He was cheating on me. I'd known it for a while, so when Bra said it, it really didn't come as much of a surprise. "I know." I may not be as intelligent as my father, and I know I'm not nearly as naive, but I'm not stupid. God, I'm not stupid.   
  
"WHAT?" Bra really did look funny when she was angry, she had none of the reserve that ran so freely in Vegeta's and even Trunks' veins. Her expressions didn't hide. Icy blue eyes met my apathetic gaze and she nearly shouted, "Kill him! Wait, no... _I'll_ kill him!"   
  
I couldn't repress the laugh that came next, a laugh tainted with bitterness, a laugh that said, 'Kill him? I'd like to.' Clasping my hand over my mouth, I cursed myself mentally. My shoulders were shaking, my hands were shaking, my voice was shaking... "I'd like to."   
  
"Be my guest," Bra replied coldly, having regained most of her cool. "Why haven't you dumped him yet?"   
  
She said it so easily, so calmly, as if it were nothing. As if these feelings that rampaged within could be erased simply with those words. I had thought so too, once, and that had gotten me into this mess. It made me Trunks' girlfriend, the happiest girl in the world. But only for what seemed then like a moment. Just a moment of happiness. "...it was worth it."   
  
"Wha?" Light sprinkles of confusion darkened her bright visage; a mask, probably, Bra's "comforting friend" mask, "What was worth it?"   
  
I shrugged, "Nothing. Don't worry about me. I'll deal with it." I flashed a plastic smile and stood. Staying here any longer would only lead to a breakdown. Lying, to me, had become quite easy-- but lying to a friend was never fun. "I'll call you later, okay?"   
  
Bra nodded, coolly sipping her tea, "Tell me how it goes. You are dumping him, right?"   
  
I put my best mysterious smile on display and disappeared before she could say another word. I didn't want to explain myself here... how could I? I knew the truth as well as anyone, any normal person wouldn't tolerate this. Any normal person would've dumped him. But me? Aren't I normal too?   
  
The answer to that, ladies and gentlemen, will always be 'no'.   
  
--   
  
_My first memory with him was when I was four. Bra was only three years old then, and Trunks was nine. Only nine years old and he had quite a following of little girls. Winter had come and washed the reds and browns away, we were playing in the snow when Bra had wandered too far. We were playing hide and seek, and Trunks had already been looking for an hour without sight of his little sister. I'd never seen such worry on his usually emotionless face, and such determination. He left his first imprint on my heart then.   
  
It was winter when I finally told him how I felt. A cold, cold winter. I remember the way the snow cascaded so gracefully from the sky and the fog rose eerily from the ground. That hazy evening, I could see nothing else-- the world consisted only of me and him. What a world that was.   
  
But it broke away in no time. He had taken it, snatched it from me, and hurled it uncaringly at the ground. It shattered like glass. And there I was-- and here I am, still standing here gazing at the dismembered pieces. And him? He's out there somewhere with another girl, telling her all those things he told me.   
  
I can't bring myself to dump him, I can't walk away from those broken pieces when something inside me is still saying I can fix it. I can fix it. Can I fix it?_   
  
--   
  
I was running. It took me a while to notice it, to notice the soft, fresh breeze that blew through my unruly hair, to notice the smell of flowers that poured down from the trees above, to notice the feel of the wet grass far below. It was spring again, two years after the first time he kissed me, two and a half after that snowy day, one and a half after the first time I saw him with someone else.   
  
I slowed my pace in a valiant attempt to enjoy the change in weather, but I noted then that spring was never my favorite season. Bad things happen in the spring. The journey to the house was a short one, but lively. Walking through the crowd, a familiar purple head caught my eye... and he wasn't alone. A laughing brunette bobbed beside him, and my suspicion was confirmed.   
  
The tears didn't come like they usually do, this time, only thoughts. Dark, gloomy thoughts that I had tried so hard to vanquish. They wouldn't leave. A storm cloud fluttered over me, the stupid girl who couldn't get over Mr. Handsome. That's all he was, after all. Handsome.   
  
And there you have it... can't ever trust a guy with good looks. 


	2. Rule 2: You make your own Fate.

Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating 

[**Author's Notes:** I love everyone who reviewed. All seven of you. You're my new best friends. Well, anyway... I'm *really* not trying to bash Trunks or anything, it's just I kinda needed someone to be evil and jerky.. well I'll fix him later. But right now I'm twisting his character for my own personal pleasure-- please don't hurt me! Seperate little notes.. to Nadesico: yup, that's the story :) And thanks again to everyone who reviewed. To those who didn't.. um.. review? Please?]   
  
**Rule 2**: You make your own Fate.   
  
I picked up the receiver again with trembling hands. 'This isn't funny, Pan. You _have_ to do this. Now.' I'd been doing this all afternoon, over and over again, trying to work up the courage to tell him, the courage to move on. "That's it!" Only a growl left my lips and I hurled the receiver at the ground, "I can't do this."   
  
Curling up on the bed, I struggled to close my eyes and clear my mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. Hadn't I finally worked the courage to earn my place by his side? What happened to the happy ending?   
  
Close these eyes and clear my mind, close my eyes and clear this...   
  
--   
  
"Panny, darling, what's wrong?" Sympathy, concern, pity... that's all I've ever gotten. Worry that I don't need, don't deserve... and it's all his fault. All of it. Without answering, I burst out of my room and down the stairs in a blur, finding the phone once more. This time around, I could do it.   
  
My fingers found the right numbers without guidance, and the words flew through my lips without a second thought. "Trunks? I saw you." It wasn't courage speaking, this newfound desire wasn't courage. It was jealousy. Pure, unrivaled anger. "I saw you."   
  
I didn't have to hear it to know that my voice must've been filled with venom; deadlier than a snake's bite. That's who I was, after all, that's who everyone thought I was. Tough Panny the tomboy, Mr. Satan's rebellious granddaughter. But me, did I ever feel like that? Yeah, right. Try Little Panny the Coward.   
  
"Panny? Wait-- uh, can we talk then? Face to face?" His voice hadn't changed at all and instantly, regret flooded my senses. I shouldn't have called him, I shouldn't have said it, I shouldn't have... "Please Panny?"   
  
--   
  
_Cold, cold, cold... that's all I remember about that night. It was cold. Shivering even beneath my layers of jackets and sweaters, I trudged through the snow, on this path I had taken for as long as I could remember. 'The house isn't too far off,' I remember thinking, 'maybe I should sprint from here.' Frozen breath rose like smoke from my lips, ragged breath, and I realized that running would take too much energy; better walk after all.   
  
He was walking beside me... close enough to watch, but too far to touch. A sigh escaped his lips, a puff of fog took flight, and his usual cheerfulness flew along with it. 'Some girl he liked was about to dump him,' Bra's grave words came back quickly, 'so he dumped her first. I guess he really liked her. But Trunks would probably shrivel up and die the day a girl dumped him!' I tried vainly to suppress the giggle that the mental image brought on. 'But what kind of idiot would dump Trunks?' What a moron I was then.   
  
"Uh... Trunks? Are you okay?" I must've sounded so stupid, gazing up at him with those hopeful eyes. But I didn't know what else to say. He rewarded my efforts with a warm laugh and a smile. Fake? Probably, but I didn't notice. Not then. I was naive then.   
  
Chuckling to himself, Trunks slid his arm over my shoulder and pulled me closer; filled me with his own special warmth. I had nothing left to complain about that night._   
  
--   
  
Sometimes I still wonder why my heart didn't just stop then, and sometimes I wish it did. I wouldn't be here otherwise; I wouldn't be fidgeting here tonight, trying desperately to avoid his gaze. I suppose life is never that easy.   
  
"You look like someone died," he commented, noting my rather dreary expression, "just let me explain, okay?" Calm, too calm. He was always much, much too calm... how did he expect to weasel himself out of this one? In two years, I'd seen him with, more or less, around fifteen different girls. Fifteen. If this wasn't Trunks we were talking about, I'd have to say that must've broken some kind of record.   
  
"The girl-- she was one of Bra's friends," confidence flowed through his veins like blood, "they're planning something for her birthday and she wanted to ask me a few questions. That's it." Something inside me somewhere was exploding-- I could hear it, I could feel it. There were so many reasons that challenged his confession, but most convincing of all was the feeling that rushed through me. The bitter, aching tide that washed over my senses, stronger than any gut feeling, stronger than any numbers or facts.   
  
--   
  
"How do you know he was actually lying?" Marron's cool voice floated in from the kitchen, where she occupied herself by mixing things together and trying her best to comfort me. "I'm not taking his side or anything, but--"   
  
"She was a brunette," I couldn't describe that feeling to Marron, the right words couldn't be found, so instead I added, "Trunks is partial to brunettes." I couldn't meet her gaze, not in this weakened state, but Marron's apartment was the closest to the apartment and I just couldn't bring myself to go home. Daddy would take one look at me and run off to kill Trunks, and somehow, that didn't appeal to me.   
  
--   
  
"Does it really mean that much to you?" His voice took an uncharacteristic tone, harsh and angry, "You're too young to know what love means. And this is what love is supposed to be like at our age. No one finds their soul mate at... how old are you again? Fourteen? Quit dreaming, Pan, this is life."   
  
Anger flooded my vision, blinded my senses, who was he to judge me? What did he know about love? Only five years older and he spoke as if he were my father... in just those words, he wrote off these feelings, these emotions that had been building up over the years... "Don't you ever think about Fate?"   
  
Those chance encounters came to mind once more, so many little things, details that I treasured were nothing to him. "Girls are stupid like that, do you really believe your path is set? Don't be an idiot Panny, you make your own fate. I'm not bound to you or any other girl."   
  
And there we have it, straight from the lips of Tokyo's most sought-after bachelor; _You make your own fate._ And my response? I didn't stay and fight; I ran. Past the place where he first kissed me, past the grove where we walked side by side, past the fountain that gave me a place by his side, past it all. Somewhere along the way, I trampled those glass shards of the world I once knew, and glass lodged itself into my stockinged feet. A trail of blood must've followed me, but I didn't mind... I wouldn't die from losing a bit of blood. It was the scars that I saw then, and I still see today... but that's okay. Good, even. Scars to remind me of how stupid I once was.   
  
Abruptly, I stopped, turning back in his direction, "...and Trunks? I'm sixteen."   
  
--   
  
Stay tuned for the next rule-- **You never know if you don't try.** What happens? That's a secret. ^.~ 


	3. Rule 3: You'll never know if you don't t...

Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating 

[**Author's Notes:** I'm really sorry this took so long, between laziness and writer's block, well, I couldn't get much done. But this one is _reaaaaaaaally_ long, so that may or may not make up for it. Whichever the case, forgive me ^^ I forgot to mention it in the first two chapters, but when whole sections are in italics, that means it's a flashback. Oh yes, and in case you haven't seen my profile (which most prolly haven't), I will be starting to email people when I update... if you're interested, review and say so. I'll also need an address and you're set. ^_^ Lots and lots of 'thank you's to the kind reviewers and enjoy!]   
  
**Rule 3:** You'll never know unless you try.   
  
"Are you sure you don't need a ride? I can't let you walk home in that downpour!" Marron's light gaze rested on the window, and more specifically, the violent rains that pounded against it, "It's really no trouble at all."   
  
"I'm taking the train, don't worry about me. The rain isn't _that_ bad." As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. There hadn't been rain like that in ages, and who _wouldn't_ worry? I had just spent the afternoon crying and whining at Marron, and well, my senses weren't all there.   
  
"Pan, don't be stupid, I don't want you--" Marron's voice underwent a total transformation, from warm and friendly to motherly. Not a normal woman's "motherly" tone, but Chichi's special uber-protective psycho sort of "motherly". Marron must've been spending too much time around my uncle these days, I thought to myself, and quickly slipped out the door before she could say another word.   
  
I still had too much pride to ask for any more of her help.   
  
--   
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, our next stop is Nishida station. Exiting passengers, please watch your step. . .and we wish you a safe trip."   
  
Gloomily, I hid away my pocket mirror and locked my gaze on the window, trying hard to concentrate on anything other than my pluvial appearance. Droplets of rain trickled down my clammy skin, and lower onto my waterlogged clothing. In my rush to escape Marron's apartment, I had forgotten a key element: the umbrella.   
  
Eyes followed me from every part of the train, I could feel them burning into me, probing me for answers to their petty questions. "What's with that girl over there? Hasn't she ever heard of an umbrella?" Whispers filled the stale air as well, meant to be discreet, but heard nonetheless. I had always had brilliant hearing, and it came in handy in more ways than one, but in times like these, I wouldn't have minded it much if I was deaf.   
  
"What's she holding? Oh my god! And look at her shoes... isn't that blood?" I rolled my eyes, 'Thank you for pointing out the obvious,' I wanted to say, 'thank you and congratulations, you've just won the Nobel Prize.' My lips moved slightly as I continued to whisper under my breath, when another, louder voice interrupted my thoughts.   
  
"Stop staring at her, you little brats." A tall stranger shot the offenders a deadly glare and planted himself on the seat beside me, blocking their view, "I hate it when people do that." With a smirk, he extended a large hand toward mine and added, "I'm Ken."   
  
"Pan," I replied simply, slipping my lifeless hand into his, "and thank you. I have a feeling I would've said that a little differently though." He grinned--a bright, wholesome smile that stretched from ear to ear, emitting rays of warmth that found their way into the icy, bleeding lump that was my heart. There was something sweet about him, something natural, and it made him so different. So very different from Trunks.   
  
Maybe if he was my boyfriend, none of this would've happened. If it was him instead of Trunks... _anyone_ instead of Trunks. What was I thinking? But I couldn't stop it, this seed of odd thoughts that had begun to grow in the back of my mind wouldn't leave. "Where are you headed?" I closed my eyes for a moment--just a second, and his voice dissolved into Trunks'.   
  
I'm still not ready to move on just yet.   
  
--   
  
_ "I love you Bianca, but we can't do this! Celeste is waiting for me, and I promised her that I would do it right this time. She gave me her kidney, I owe it to her." With an exaggerated turn, the man brushed a bony hand through his greasy black hair and walked away ever so slowly, as if he were awaiting...   
  
"No! Don't go, Cliff! Don't leave me! Cliff, I..." The petite blonde, complete with tear-stained eyes and pouty lips, ran after him, stumbling somewhere along the way, "Cliff! I-I... love... you t-too!" The orchestra boomed on, playing a bittersweet melody that matched the mood quite well.   
  
With a pained expression, Cliff walked away, murmuring, "I'm sorry," under his breath. A gorgeous sunset lay ahead of him, and behind him, a sobbing girl. The image that all little girls once had of riding off into the sunset with a prince was shattered beyond repair.   
  
"You idiot!" Bra shrieked, throwing a pillow at the TV screen, "Forget Celeste! You're meant to be with Bianca!" Grabbing a fistful of Kleenex from the conveniently-placed box, Bra blew her nose and scowled, "Men are scum!"   
  
I remember laughing then; it was so easy to laugh then. "They're so stupid! If he loves her and she loves him, what problems can they possibly have left?" Quizzically, I looked to Bra for the answer, but she was too engrossed in the next scene to answer.   
  
I never found the answer to that question; I like to think that the answer found me._   
  
--   
  
"You there, Pan?" The cool voice on the other side of the phone line lulled me back to reality--soft, but firm--a voice I had begun to get used to, "You don't sound very awake today, something wrong?" I didn't see Trunks' face when I talked to him anymore, in fact, I didn't see much of Trunks at all anymore.   
  
"Not really, just thinking about stuff." I replied simply, not seeing the need to elaborate. Ken had proven himself a fantastic listener, but I wasn't really in the mood to talk.   
  
"Him?" His response was a bit surprising; Ken never seemed to push me much when I didn't want to embellish, "You're thinking about _him_, aren't you?"   
  
Maybe it was just me, but I could've sworn there was a hint of anger in his tone... a tiny, bitter flavor that I couldn't quite place, "Yeah," I admitted, "Trunks. I can't help it... I haven't seen him at all for at least a week." A week? Closing my eyes, I counted the days in my head, "Yeah, a week... I saw him that day it rained."   
  
"Really. And you plan on obsessing over him until..."   
  
"I'm not obsessing," I retorted, "and if I was, why would it matter to you?" Leaning back against my bed, I sighed and grabbed a nearby notebook. Ever since the day on the train when Ken had insisted that I give him my phone number, my afternoons were spent like this: lazing around in my room with the phone. Might as well try to do something productive while I'm at it.   
  
"It _does_ matter," he whispered gently, "Pan... can I talk to you?"   
  
"What do you think you're doing now?" Laughing lightly, I added, "Or do you mean face to face? I'm free for an hour tomorrow, after school." Twirling the telephone cord in one hand and scribbling notes with the other; what I sight I must have been. The typical teenage girl, with the typical teenage life. If only it was that easy.   
  
--   
  
So it began as just another school day. Bra called in the morning for a quick update on her love life, I managed to slip into the classroom only seconds before the last bell rang, and now I was off to chat with Ken before meeting Bra at the mall. Yup, another typical day in the oh-so exciting life of Son Pan. But it didn't stay that way for long.   
  
I was at the train station an hour before I needed to be; school ended early that day. It didn't matter much, I knew Ken wouldn't be late, and I didn't mind waiting at a place so full of people. It was a nice change from the desolate park that Trunks seemed to like so much.   
  
Sometime between pages thirty and forty-five of the book I had brought along, Ken arrived, still in his school uniform. He didn't see me right away, and glancing at my watch, I realized that he, too, was extremely early. With a slight wave, I caught his attention, and he flashed a quick smile before beginning his fight through the crowd.   
  
Though for a while, I couldn't help but compare him to Trunks, I had begun to realize that they were quite different. 'Polar opposite' is a more accurate term, but you get the point. Ken didn't play tough; didn't hide his sweet side behind a wall of bricks, but he didn't have the fiery passion that I always saw in Trunks' every move, either.   
  
He wasn't like Trunks in so many ways, but for some reason the thing I noticed most often was the hope. He didn't have the glittering hope in his eyes like Trunks did.   
  
Ken didn't grace me with a greeting today, just another bright grin before he sat down beside me and murmured, "Pan... will you be my girlfriend?" Before continuing, he looked for reaction in my eyes. Still too busy processing his words, I sat there, devoid of thoughts, "I know this is kind of sudden, and if you need time to think, I understand, but--uh. Pan?"   
  
His words flooded my mind too quickly, much too quickly--and where my mind blanked out, my instinct took over. I ran.   
  
--   
  
"Trunks, how long is this going to take? I have to meet Pan in, like, twenty minutes and it'll take at least fifteen to drive me back to the mall." Bra whined, nudging her preoccupied brother, _hard_.   
  
"Oww!" Trunks growled, shooting Bra a glare. She returned it with twice the fire. "Why does my love life matter to you anyway? And you're the one that insisted on coming. What, I need a chaperone now?"   
  
"It doesn't. Not until you start cheating on my friends." Bra muttered, "Wasn't she _your_ friend too?" With a scoff, she added, "I'm doing the female population a favor by keeping you in check."   
  
Pausing, Trunks gazed at his little sister with a smirk, "You think you can actually lift a finger against me?"   
  
"No, but daddy would." Bra retorted, giving him her best innocent look. Sipping her milkshake, she grinned, no doubt imagining the look on Trunks' face after Vegeta was done with him.   
  
He began to reply, but his earnest expression was quickly replaced with an evil grin. A wild laugh ensued, and Trunks pushed his sister into the fountain she had been sitting on, only to flee at her screams.   
  
--   
  
Tears I didn't understand raged on a warpath down my cheeks, and with a mind too plagued by confusion, I had no time to think about where I was going. I crashed into several strangers, muttering quick apologies, before I bumped into him. But 'bumped' really isn't the word, maybe 'collided' would work better. Well, anyway, I collided into Trunks. The very person who, at least in my mind, brought all of this upon me.   
  
A very loud curse left his lips as he found himself on the ground, but he composed himself rather quickly. Trunks looked nervous, and with a fidgeting gaze, he greeted me and shuffled away as if I were nothing more than a mere stranger.   
  
Still dazed from the impact, I barely had time to get to my feet before a smaller figure went running into him. She wore a bucket hat and sunglasses, and drenched in water, it was an interesting sight. Grabbing the laughing Trunks' ear, the petite girl whispered something, and whatever she said, it worked very well in quieting him.   
  
And so I sat there seeing stars, wondering what I had done in a past life to be incurring Dende's wrath in such a manner. Call it coincidence or call it Fate, why did I happen to be around every time Trunks was with a new girl?   
  
I stood, albeit slowly, trying with no avail to wipe my tears away. Starting towards the house, I walked this time, in no hurry to face whatever gruesome future Dende had laid out for me.   
  
--   
  
The phone rang the second I stepped into my room and as I collapsed into my bed, I heard Bra's voice on the answering machine, ". . . so I'm sorry Pan, but my **idiot** brother ruined my hair and . . . I'll see you on Wednesday, okay? Bye!"   
  
Closing my eyes, the day's events passed through my mind, and I realized then that today was anything but typical. With a sigh, I pulled the covers over my head. I wasn't at all tired, but I needed to think. I needed someone to talk to. If Ken wasn't a part of this complex problem, I would've called him for sure.   
  
Again, the bitter tears sprang to my eyes and I muffled my cries with a faithful pillow. I had much too much pride to let anyone see me, crying for no apparent reason. It wasn't Trunks, of that much I was sure. Almost sure. I was used to his incredibly insensitive ways. But is being betrayed ever something one truly gets used to?   
  
I was pondering this when the phone rang again, and thinking it was Bra, I answered lightly, "Hello?" Clearing my throat, I hoped desperately that she wouldn't be able to tell that I had been crying, when...   
  
"Pan? I just wanted to apologize for--wait a minute... Pan? What's wrong?" It wasn't Bra. After the incident with Trunks, I had nearly forgotten that Ken existed, and though my mind and my instincts told me to hang up, I was through listening to them.   
  
"N-nothing," I stuttered, still surprised at the voice on the other side of the line, "I ran into Trunks afterwards... and..."   
  
"Damn." Ken's voice was low and deadly, and I could've sworn I heard him whisper something about killing someone, "...doesn't deserve you, Pan. He doesn't."   
  
"Ken?" There was a fierce quality in his voice now, one I don't think I'd ever heard before. His apologetic tone was gone without a trace and I could hear him muttering things under his breath, "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Really." I was wiping the tears away as I spoke convincingly; I was trying to convince myself.   
  
"I'll help you forget."   
  
"What are you talking about?" He was beginning to show a side I had never seen before, from these voices to these words, truly unpredictable. With a forced laugh, I added, "Are you okay, Ken?"   
  
"I'll help you forget that bastard, Pan, just let me try." I could almost see his face as he talked; the gentle determination burning in his dark eyes, and I could feel the warmth that coated every word. "Please."   
  
--   
  
_The first time, I didn't think much of it. I let myself ignore the smiles and her laughter, I conveniently forgot that he had her arm around her and that hers was linked in his. I just walked right by.   
  
The second time, I looked past his blue eyes and his lavender hair and decided that this girl was with someone else. Some stranger that looked exactly like my boyfriend, yes, but he was someone else. Of that I convinced myself.   
  
The third time, it scared me. I had seen the blank look in his normally brilliant blue eyes during our dates, and I knew that he was no longer listening to a word I said. The third time, it became a possibility... and slowly, I was leaving denial.   
  
Number four, number five, and number six merely confirmed it. I had begun spying on him on days he said he was busy, and with each discovery, my heart broke. Over and over and over again. I wrote him letters I knew I'd never send, and again and again I tried to call him... but I couldn't.   
  
Number fifteen no longer surprised me. I had a feeling that by then nothing in this world would ever stir me again. But I held on as tightly as ever, because he was still there. He could've left, but he didn't... and neither would I. Neither will I._   
  
--   
  
Silence followed his words, only silence. And I knew he was right. I knew I needed to move on, I needed to forget... but what of the past? What of the feelings that were left? Was it really that easy to bury them away and forget? The tears crept upon me again, so quietly that I didn't even notice their presence. Like rain, they fell... like the hard rain that day that pushed me away from Trunks and into Ken's path. Did it mean something? But I remembered Trunks' words... _You make your own Fate_. To him, nothing meant anything. "Ken... do you believe in Fate?"   
  
"Huh?" I could tell he was caught totally off guard by that one, and a smooth laugh left his lips, "Fate, eh? I don't know... I really don't. But maybe that rainy day was Fate. Maybe that train ride was Fate. Maybe. Panny, you'll never know if you don't give it a chance."   
  
He was right, and I knew it. "Ken?" His name left my lips with difficulty, as if my whole body was trying to stop those words from reaching his ears; it wouldn't work. This was _my_ decision, "Ken... let's take a chance."   
  
--   
  
Remember to review if you want to know when the next chapter comes out... and feel free to review even if you don't want to know. ^__^   
  
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	4. Rule 4: There's no use in denial.

Son Pan's Foolproof Guide to Dating 

[**Author's Notes**: Wow. Sorry for the wait-- between losing my idea sheet-thingie for the story and exhaustion and laziness and whatnot, I finally finished it! Took me long enough. As always, any feedback is wonderful, and many thanks to those who have already reviewed :) They mean a lot! Again, if you want to receive updates, remember to review (and include your email address!). If you've already done so, no need to do it again. Last thing-- this part takes place two years after the last chapter, or at least all of it that isnt' flashback. Thanks again to the reviewers!]   
  
**Rule 4:** Denial is bad? ^^;;   
  
It was that day again; I woke up with an unsettling sense of disappointment and frustration. My alarm clock, the first fool ignorant enough to rouse my temper, was quickly silenced and as I made a last attempt to return to my slumber, I could still hear the ominous ticking that marked the beginning of another of my wasted days. Only today was different, today would be worse; I could already feel it somewhere in my bones. I've always hated my birthday.   
  
Rolling out of bed groggily, I found my eyes wandering toward a certain picture frame on my dresser. Without meaning to, I followed their lead and fingered the small silvery frame that had within it a moment in time, captured forever. A smile tugged at my lips as the happiness it held diffused into me and became mine. But only for a moment. All too soon, I remembered-- where I was, who I was, when it was-- and the moment's events were forgotten, or maybe just tucked away for another time.   
  
--   
  
_ "Daddy? What's wrong?" The air was so thick that day that I could barely breathe, but no one else seemed to notice; they were too busy with the problem at hand, whatever that may have been. As the rain pounded threateningly against the house, fear gripped me tightly; I had never seen my father cry before.   
  
He hid it well though--with his face buried in his hands--it was only the soft whimpers that gave him away. Needless to say, Dad didn't respond for a while. When he did, though, all traces of his own insecurities were locked tightly away, "Panny? Dad...Grandpa Goku... is going away for a while."   
  
I didn't dare ask why...though he had so cleverly pushed all signs of emotion from his face, his eyes still clung to the uncertainty I had seen only seconds before. "He said he was sorry he couldn't come to your birthday party today." I nodded, forcing away the tears that were trying to invade the moment and turned away.   
  
Sprinting to my room, I didn't quite understand what had just unfolded, but maybe that was part of the trouble. 'Liar,' I remember thinking, 'there's so much more to it than that.' I cried myself to sleep that afternoon, though I wasn't even tired--just confused. My usually dreamless slumber was interrupted with a voice, a cackling laughter, and the shattered remnants of my Grandfather's bright smile, all surrounded in a vortex of suffocating darkness.   
  
Mom woke me up later, for dinner, and by then the guests had come, bringing with them a flurry of smiles and laughter and artificial happiness. The air was thick then, too, a choking sort of tension had filled it so thoroughly that there was nothing light and nothing happy left. Though I was struggling to breathe, I followed their lead, pasting on a smile so wide my face should've split. But it didn't, and something inside me tightened._   
  
--   
  
Glancing at the tattered remains of my once-efficient clock, I sighed. In a few minutes, I'd be swarmed with phone calls, and in a few more _they_ would come. The family, the friends, the close ones, the not-so close ones, everyone. And another day of hell would come and go, but when it was all over I'd be different. I'd be older, but not wiser. No, not wiser.   
  
The doorbell rang, as I knew it would, and in came a steady flow of familiar faces--Ken was first, then my parents, Grandma Chichi, Grandpa Satan, Bulma and Bra, Krillin and family... and the list goes on. In no time, they'd filled my cramped apartment with both bodies and laughter. Surrounded in this warmth, in this happiness, I couldn't help but feel a little out of place.   
  
--   
  
_ "Happy birthday, Pan!" A myriad of voices-high and low, soft and loud-clashed in a way nature never meant for. I tried my best not to cringe, and instead I flashed a fake smile; this was a craft I was beginning to master.   
  
"What did you wish for?" Trunks blurted out, so suddenly that I nearly jumped; it took nearly all of my reserves not to. A blush found my face all too quickly, but before I could stutter a reply, Bra answered for me.   
  
"She can't tell you or it won't come true, silly." Laughing hysterically, Bra grabbed my arm and dragged me to the other side of the room. "I'll bet your wish had to do with my brother," Bra giggled, "I hope it comes true."   
  
I didn't answer, but I might as well have-- my face turned a thousand shades of pink before a single word could leave my lips. With a secret smile, Bra winked and turned away._   
  
--   
  
Scanning the crowd of familiar faces that had formed so quickly in my humble apartment, memories of all sorts flooded into my mind; but no matter how hard I searched, one face remained lost. A bittersweet feeling ran through me at this realization, as if I had lost a piece of favorite puzzle--but it was more than a puzzle piece that eluded me; what remained lost was a piece of my _life_.   
  
It shouldn't have surprised me though, I hadn't seen him for years upon years. It seemed that whatever fate, whatever coincidences that had once brought us together were now keeping us apart.   
  
An ear-piercing shriek rudely interrupted my thoughts, and I nearly fainted--but it was a familiar shriek, one I was once so very accustomed to. Whirling around, I greeted it by name, "Bra!" She was a hyperactive blur--laughing, screaming, and giggling all at once--a combination impossible to anyone but her.   
  
"Pan! How can you be so calm? You're 18! You're _free_!" I laughed at that, compared to her, anyone would've been considered calm. Between her millions of other excited comments, she squeezed in, "Where's Ken?" I pointed her toward the kitchen, and with another ecstatic squeal, she was off.   
  
--   
  
I lose track of time sometimes. Hours can go by while I'm absorbed in thought and when I wake again, I couldn't tell you what I was thinking about--even that knowledge would slip away as if it were nothing. Sometimes it _is_ nothing, but other times... other times, I come out of my trance with such a heavy feeling that I know something's wrong... but what? If only I knew.   
  
Ken's been worried, I can tell. You can hear it in his voice; his once versatile voice is flat sometimes. Dull and hopeless, and if it could be a color, it would be dark gray. Not white and not black, but gray, like a strong, strong man who feels helpless--he knows there's nothing he can do, but he tries anyway. He tries so hard and yet he never gets anywhere, and it breaks my heart to watch.   
  
He'll deny it though. Ask him and he'll deny it vehemently, as if it's one of the last things in the world he has to cling to. So I don't ask, and I won't tell... I'll simply watch, knowing.   
  
--   
  
"Happy birthday to you. . .happy birthday dear Panny, happy birthday to you!" I've gotten better and better at not cringing after this--let's face the facts, some people in my family just _shouldn't_ be allowed to sing. Beaming, mom brought out the massive cake, complete with its own set of tiny candles. With a wink, she whispered, "Don't forget to make a wish!"   
  
I rolled my eyes and extinguished the tiny beads of fire with ease... but a _wish_? I had lost my faith in those on a birthday not so long ago. With a feigned smile, I excused myself from the "spotlight", only to be captured once more.   
  
"Guess who?" A silky smooth voice eased into my ears and hands that seemed to radiate warmth blocked my vision.   
  
"Trunks?" I tried to stop myself, but too late. The all too familiar name had slipped once more, and the air around us deadened. I had begun to pick up an old habit--a very old, very annoying, very troublesome habit--and it wasn't making anything much easier. Fumbling for the right words, I slipped out of his grasp and tried desperately to explain. It was a habit, almost a reflex, nothing more.   
  
"Give it up, Pan." There was exhaustion in his voice now, as if he had been bearing an invisible weight that was finally beginning to wear him down. In a softer tone, he added, "Why don't we just give this up?"   
  
He was right. He was _always_ right. In any other case, it would've annoyed me, but in this one I could only agree. The words that escaped then were not mine, those words came from someone far better a person than I could ever be, "Thank you." I didn't trust myself to say anything else, so I didn't. I merely watched as he found his way back into the sea of faces, looking somewhat relieved. He glanced over his shoulder at me once and smiled--a strong smile that he'd been hiding for so long, a smile that spoke volumes. I smiled back; this smile was real.   
  
--   
  
"WHAT?" Surprising Bra was becoming a hobby, and as the confusion swept over her face, I couldn't help but laugh. "You and Ken broke up? _Why_?! You two were perfect!"   
  
I shrugged, not wanting to relay the whole of another long story. So instead, I chose to summarize it all--two whole years of my life--in one word, "Denial." Flashing a mysterious smile, I watched a multitude of emotions surface in her clear eyes and left, feeling so much lighter.   
  
--   
  
My afternoons had returned to normal--or as normal as my life would ever get. It was summer again, and as I lounged around the house, debating productivity, the phone rang. It was a jarring sound, one I'd almost forgotten. Since Bra was out of town and the parents were busy looking for a new house (the old one had fallen apart during one of Grandma Chichi's temper tantrums), I had run out of reason to even own a telephone. "Hello?"   
  
"Pan!" The voice on the other side of the line surprised me even more than the ringing of the phone did; it was a voice I'd recognize anywhere, a voice I hadn't heard since that paradoxical birthday party months ago.   
  
"Ken?" Thoughts bombarded me-what to say, how to act... until I realized I hadn't spoken to him since his suggestion to break up. "Oh, Ken...I'm sorry, I didn't think--" I tried to go on, struggling for the right words, but he laughed--a clear laugh, an embodiment of pure happiness and amusement. I listened to his laugh, his rejuvenated voice--and I knew he had forgiven me.   
  
"You don't have to apologize... I really did have fun then. Good luck, Pan."   
  
"I had fun too," I smiled, and though there was so much more I wanted to say, so much more I should've said, I couldn't, "Thank you."   
  
--   
  
Me again. Please please **please** review! 


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